Eight Hundred and Twenty Four
by JenniferTVgirl
Summary: A view into the tortured mind of Rachel. Her thoughts as a prisoner to the Militia. Set around episode 1-6 before Danny sees his mother. Slight Trigger Warning. Dark Monroe. Enjoy.


824. _Eight hundred and twenty four._ This is what her life had come to, Counting.

A quiet whimper escaped her dry lips. The moist feeling on her cheeks told her she was crying or sweating, likely a combination of both. She felt hollow inside. Empty, like everything was missing. And it was.

Her life ended years ago. Not physically, but mentally. What she had left was not a life. It was an entrapment that was not going to end until her "life" did.

The moment plays on repeat in her mind, the moment she walked away from her life without turning back. Her deepest regret; not getting one more look at her perfect family.

It was a lonely nightmare. The only thing keeping her sanity; her journals. This tiny luxury had offered her an escape from her dark reality. She would write for hours upon hours just to help to time pass. At first it was just memories she would write, then once she had written her whole life as a history book she found herself writing her fantasies. Her dreams and wishes. Hope of an escape and the chance to be with her family. But that's all they ever were... dreams. They would become nothing more or nothing less.

She knew that the Militia were not going to kill her, but they were indeed going to keep her trapped inside these four walls until she gave them answers and probably still after that. She would never be freed. She could still try as hard as hell to escape, but she had given up on that option years ago. The torture afterward was not worth it.

The Militia needed her. They had to keep her alive as they had no one else that knew the answers they were seeking. Unfortunately for them, there was no way in hell she was going to give them answers. She had willingly come here with no guarantee of giving them the information they wanted, just the guarantee that her family would be unharmed and safe. That they would be granted freedom and would not be bothered by the Militia. A life traded for three. It was worth it, well atleast that's what she would tell herself every night before she succumbed to a restless sleep.

As sick as it sounded, Rachel was grateful she had abandoned her family, that she had left her children motherless, Ben - wife less. In the end the three of them together was far better then all of them dead. It was a worry off her shoulders knowing the militia had promised to leave the remains of her family free.

Another tear escaped. As the years passed, her memory faded. She could barely remember their innocent angelic faces. She would not recognize them if they walked by her window. She often let her mind slip and thought of them, wondering how they where doing, and the type of people they had become. She really did miss them. The pain in her heart was unbearable.

She cheated her family. They likely thought she was dead. But no, she was very much breathing, not so much living, but yes she was breathing and barely. She wanted it to end, but she held on to the small shred of hope that one day she would see them again.

Remembering is what hurt her most. it made her realize how much everything has changed, how alone and frightened she really is. She hated the silence; it was deafening. Even more she hated the small continuos noises that broke the silence. They scared her more. Made her aware that there was something there. She wasn't alone and that scared her. She could try to block it out but she would never be alone again, she would forever be haunted. Whether she was actually alone or not.

Now a stream of frustration escaped her clenched eyes. She mentally hit herself, there was no word to describe the guilt she felt, the shredding of her heart. How could she think of them at a time like this. She had a dirty, filthy feeling inside her. She felt an infinite disgust and hate towards the man inside her. He had controlled her every move for years now. He was inside her, insider her head and she was unable to shut him out.

He was a destroyer; he destroyed America, he destroyed freedom, he destroyed her family and mostly he destroyed her soul. To think 15 years ago he was a family friend made her sick to her stomach. She convinced herself that Bass was the devil. And she was a scared little girl. The Rachel that used to exist,- the happily married mother with a strong and independent mind -was gone. That Rachel had died 823 times and was due to die again. Soon.

"Ahhh Rachel" the devil groaned. As he collapsed on top of her, kissing her neck one last time before grinning down at her as he made his way out of the covers.

"I hate you Bass" she whimpered, clenching her eyes shut in an attempt to shut out the world.

_Eight hundred and twenty four_. That's the amount of times Rachel has died. And counting.

Fin.


End file.
